Betrayal & Lies
by JoaniexJony
Summary: After John & Ronon are found after going missing, the team's elation is shattered when it's clear something has gone badly wrong. Question is, can things ever be the same again? Shep whump, Ronon whump/angst and team angst with Carson set in Season 2
1. Chapter 1

After John and Ronon are found after been missing for over four weeks, the team's elation is shattered when it's clear something has gone badly wrong. Question is, can things ever be the same again? Shep whump, Ronon too with all the team and Carson. Set in Season 2 after Sateda.

Warnings:- Violence to start with and some bad language.

Disclaimer:- SGA is not mine…I wouldn't have been so stupid as to take these boy's off my screen!

Many thanks to my wonderful beta shepsgirl72 for all her help, all mistakes of course are mine.

BETRAYAL & LIES

CHAPTER 1

He'd only been trying to defend himself, keep what was rightfully his. Except nothing he did was right, every excuse grabbed by the enforcer for yet another opportunity to cruelly inflict his own brand of discipline upon him.

Today it was going to be twenty lashes. Last week it was ten, and the week before…five. There was a pattern here, he knew it, but what the hell could he do? He was as good as alone in this hellish place, shackled hand and foot, and far away from his home, his friends.

In the beginning he'd tried to fight against the injustice of it all, but had been beaten into submission. Now he was a prisoner in an unknown land, sold as a slave, treated worse than an animal and forced to do another man's bidding. Had it only been a month since he was taken? It seemed like forever.

Even without restraints he knew escape was no longer an option. He was battered and bruised, exhausted through long hard days in the mine and meagre rations, his aching back already torn to shreds with yet another whipping to come. John tried to keep his spirits up, knowing his people would be searching for him, but hope like sand was falling through his fingers, disappearing into the millions of grains scattered beneath his feet.

His body was wracked with shivers, though not through fear, although he was afraid he wouldn't survive yet another brutal assault. Ever since the first whipping two weeks ago, the deep lacerations had quickly become infected and the fever raging through his body was becoming steadily worse. Now he felt like crap, but those bastards weren't going to witness his weakness or apprehension…if only he could just stop shaking.

The spiteful eyes of his accuser gleamed with satisfaction as his shirt was ripped open and he was dragged to the pole. What was with these people, why wouldn't they just leave him alone? He did his work, kept to himself and had just wanted to eat his meagre meal in peace. Was that really too much to ask? Yet even as the thought entered his head, John already knew the answer. No one here liked him, least of all the enforcer. John knew it was pointless to state his case, as nothing he'd said before had made any difference.

When the enforcer first arrived in camp it was clear he'd singled him out. First were the beatings; John flinched as he remembered those huge fists tearing into his gut, bruising him to hell. Then, when that stopped being fun he'd used a club to whack him across the chest, cracking nearly every freaking rib in his body. Of course after that, as a reward for increased _productivity,_ the master presented him with a long, thick fucking whip…man, how he just loved using that. He had been the first victim, or course. Now every day some poor guy suffered at that awful pole.

Still, no one beat his record. After today, if there was anything left of him that was, he would have won the prize of most abused slave… three whippings in three weeks. The sadistic bastard just wouldn't listen to reason, and those cold, hard eyes told him he didn't give a shit. For some reason, right from the start, he'd made it crystal he was out to get him, but why? Despite wracking his brain for answers, John didn't have a clue.

As his punishment was read out, he searched for traces of compassion in the cold hard rocks glaring at him, but instead found only malice and intent. Sick, weak, and already in pain, he tried to resist as torn, abraded wrists were strung up high above his head, but lacked the strength to fight a battle he couldn't win. His punishment was yet to begin, but his suffering had already started, as the long chain pulled his back taut, straining raw and tender lacerated skin so tightly, his wounds ripped apart. John failed to suppress a low moan, already in agony yet knowing much worse was about to come.

As the firm, solid footsteps of the enforcer come towards him John took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. His body was hanging loose against the rough hewn pole, the strain on his ravaged body already unbearable...shoulders weakened by weeks of back breaking work struggling to support even his emaciated frame. Yet the abuse was coming like it or not, so he gripped the chains digging into his wrists to try to gain some purchase, anything that might help him cope with the vicious assault that lay ahead. Except who was he kidding, nothing would help him now, because nothing was going to stop the hellish agony about to come his way…

ooooOoooo

Shuffling in the stiff, high backed wooden chair, Elizabeth struggled to hide her discomfort. After three gruelling hours of negotiation she was oppressively hot, with beads of sweat running down her back, making her her tee-shirt cling uncomfortably against her skin. Why, in a desert climate, Master Raman had a log fire blazing was beyond her, yet the man was dressed for a winter's day back home, his heavy embroidered tunic buttoned tightly against his neck as if freezing. Still, all of it would be worth it if she got her people safely home, yet the way this pompous man was prevaricating, Elizabeth was starting to have her suspicions he was deliberately trying her patience.

After frantically searching for her personnel for nearly a month, she felt relieved after Lorne returned to Atlantis yesterday having finally located their transponder signals on Sarunda, specifically in the servitude of the man sitting across the desk. On one hand it was good news, confirming the Intel they'd received was correct. The bad news was shortly after their abduction both men had been sold as slaves in the market on Nolange and from what she had seen of this place so far, Elizabeth was worried what condition she was going to find them in.

Elizabeth knew slavery was rife in the Pegasus galaxy, but it still sickened her to the core. It had taken far too long to find them, and even now with their release almost within her grasp, she was faced with an odious little despot who was more concerned with profit than human life. Years of diplomatic service had taught her to keep her cards close to her chest, and her innermost feelings hidden even under intense pressure. However, having witnessed the sight of emaciated and shackled men herded about like cattle, she was barely able to conceal her contempt.

After mentally counting to ten, Elizabeth reminded herself what she was here for, and if she wanted to get her CO home, she must subdue her impatience and maintain her composure. "Master Raman, while I sympathise that someone mislead you at the market, I must reiterate, you are nonetheless holding two of my personnel. So while I am prepared to offer some compensation for your loss, I should however make it quite clear _both_ men will be leaving with me today."

Elizabeth didn't know if it was the tone of her voice or the presence of Lorne with his armed marines standing outside, but she sighed with relief as the man finally stopped talking, rose reluctantly to his feet and led the way out to the compound.

It was getting hot outside, the sun already high in the sky despite the fact it was still quite early in the morning. Yet not even its bright, golden rays softened this barren, desolate place, revealing slave quarters devoid any form of human comfort. Each stark wooden hut sans doors, with nothing to deflect the stifling harsh rays of the sun by day, or provide shelter from the freezing cold temperatures prevalent in the desert by night. Worse still, a quick look inside revealed long metal chains embedded into the wall, accompanying each hard wooden bunk. Elizabeth didn't consider herself easily shocked, but the further into the compound they wandered, the more grateful she felt to Lorne for the comforting touch of his firm hand on her arm, encouraging her onwards, towards who knew what, fearful of what she was going to find.

As he shuffled along, nearly tripping on his garish tunic, Raman huffed, "You can have the one called Sheppard; he's been nothing but trouble since he arrived." Elizabeth suppressed a smile. "But the other one you mentioned isn't a slave. He's employed by me, and since he arrived the productivity in my mine has gone up and discipline has improved. So I'm afraid, Doctor Weir, I'm not prepared to let go of the best enforcer I've ever had."

Elizabeth was about to respond when her blood ran cold as she heard the chilling sound of a leather whip thrashing against human flesh, and a very, very familiar scream…

After an anxious look in her direction, Lorne ran ahead, and she became aware that Raman was staring at her, his face flushed with anger. "Where is he going?"

Raman's muffled words were lost in the jumble of panicked thoughts racing though her brain. She didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be John…could it? Without thinking she ran, faster than she ever thought possible, stumbling toward the awful sound until she stopped dead, trembling in shock at the horrendous sight in front of her.

"Crack!" She gasped, as she watched a stout leather whip fly through the air and tear into John's back, ripping a deep, jagged laceration into his skin that poured rivulets of blood onto the ground below.

"_**Arghh**_…."

"Twelve…"

Before the large man could raise the whip again, Lorne called out. "**Stop**. Or I will shoot."

As Lorne raised his gun to fire, she swayed as the 'Enforcer', the man who was inflicting the dreadful abuse on Sheppard, turned in anger to face them…_**Ronon**_.

The large Satedan faced them, devoid of fear or recognition and went to raise the whip again.

"**Go** **away.** I have a job to do….Thirteen."

"_**Gahhnnnn…"**_

"Ronon…you must stop!" Elizabeth shouted at him, feeling sick as John's back buckled against the abuse and his head fell limp against the bloody pole. Yet the Satedan, someone who she'd come to consider as a friend, just glared with derision and raised the whip yet again.

"Fourteen…"

A shot rang out and Elizabeth watched him stagger as he dropped to the ground clutching his shoulder, the whip falling harmlessly to the ground.

"What have you done? I told you to leave him alone…he is one of my men. Now he won't be able to work for days!" Raman had appeared puffing and panting, rushing to Ronon's side.

Lorne stepped forward and kicked the bloody whip away before quickly moving to his injured CO. "I'm sorry rescue was so late in coming, Sir."

"Sh…dnt…st…Ro…n." John rasped, his voice laced with pain. "Eliz….th?"

"I'm here. Everything is going to be alright now, John. We're going to get you back home…"

"**Bloody** **hell. **Which sadistic sod is responsible for this?" She spun round with relief as an angry Carson appeared at her side along with Teyla.

Almost as one, she watched them follow her gaze from their wounded colleague onto Ronon, who was now sitting, supported by Raman, his rage evident for all to see. Both appeared as shocked as she was, but the moment passed quickly as Carson slipped into doctor mode.

"Teyla, love. Go and see to Ronon and get him into the jumper. I'll stay with the Colonel." He then turned to Lorne. "Right now, son I don't care what happened here, these men are both my patients. Please help Teyla, if you will, and I think we should keep these two separated for now, don't you?"

Barely able to hold back the tears threatening to wreck her resolve, Elizabeth tore herself away from John's side to confront Raman who was arguing with Teyla and Lorne. "Lorne, Teyla. Doctor Beckett has given you your instructions, so please attend to Ronon's wound and take him home. As for _**you**_," trembling with rage she locked eyes with the abhorrent man in front of her, "you, Master Raman, will offer no further objections in this matter, and further more you will tell me not only who sold Colonel Sheppard to you, but also the person responsible for employing this man." She motioning over her shoulder at a furious Ronon who was complaining bitterly while he was being dragged away under armed escort. "Do I make myself clear?"

Normally, it would have given her immense satisfaction to witness the shock barely hidden in the beady little eyes, but today all she wanted was answers as to who caused this mess, and to get her badly wounded CO home.

ooooOoooo

Carson heard Sheppard moaning, and could barely imagine the level of pain he must be suffering. John's once healthy, toned back was now a mass of deep, ragged lacerations, ripped over several older wounds many of which were shows worrying signs of deep rooted infection. The heightened rosy flush warming his cheeks was another clue, confirmed by the heat radiating like waves from his limp frame and the temp of 104 beeping on the thermometer.

Beckett placed a reassuring hand on his friend's arm. "I'm going to give you something for the pain, Colonel, so you should start feeling a wee bit easier in a minute."

He pushed a syringe into the IV and within moments saw John's tense features start to relax. Sheppard's vitals were barely stable, but there wasn't much more he could do in this place, so covering the wounds with moist dressings, Carson prepared the sick man for transport.

"Ron…on…Ok…y?" The Scot was so preoccupied he barely heard John's weak, rasping voice.

"He'll be just fine, Colonel, but right now I'm more worried about you." Even as he spoke the words, Sheppard fell unconscious, finally free from pain thanks to the power of good drugs.

In his peripheral vision, he spotted two marines approaching with a stretcher. Carefully moving the stricken man gently onboard, Beckett saw from their anxious expressions they didn't need to be told to take care of their precious cargo. Carson knew Sheppard was well respected by his men, but more than that, the affable commander was also held in deep affection.

As he prepared to follow the sombre procession, Carson took one last look at the wooden pole and the discarded bloody whip lying nearby. What the hell was the story here? As a physician of long standing, he was well used to dealing with the consequences of violence, but this vicious attack was something else. It was more in keeping with an assault of a vengeful man against someone he despised, not the act of one friend and comrade against the other. Yet that was a question to be answered another time as Sheppard's condition was critical, requiring urgent treatment. Although, it was also obvious to him something wasn't right with Ronon either, and it wasn't just the gaping hole in his shoulder.

Even though it was only a short distance from the compound to the jumper, Beckett was concerned at the speed in which Sheppard's condition was deteriorating. Despite being given oxygen, his breathing was still laboured and his thready pulse weakening almost by the second. Atlantis was prepared for their arrival with the OR prepped and several units of the colonel's blood ready. For his part, he would of course pull out all the stops to get John through this. But, going by the wounds he could see, never mind the additional damage he may yet find under the scanner, it was going to be a long night and combined with the raging fever, at the very least a few difficult days.

As he slumped onto the bench, Carson snagged a power bar from his pocket. Blueberry, not his favourite. As he considered the bland food substitute in his hand, he wondered, not for the first time, why Rodney liked these things so much. In his opinion they tasted of melted cardboard, and he dreaded to think of the additives they contained. Still, dinner was becoming less of a possibility so he reached for another, chocolate…marginally better, and at least it was something to keep his strength up for the long hours of surgery ahead.

In the relative quiet of the jumper, the morning's troubling events went around again and again in his mind. Even now, despite what he'd seen, it was still hard for him to accept Sheppard's horrendous wounds were caused by Ronon, a man who wasn't just a teammate, but also someone he called a friend. Beckett knew with time and care the colonel would eventually heal, but as to the relationship between John and Ronon, he for one wasn't sure that ever could.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, what do you think could have happened? All will be revealed as the story unfolds, but in the meantime please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for all the reviews and the story alerts, I really appreciate them!

As for story, why was Ronon beating the crap out of his best friend? What could possibly have happened to make him do this? Chapter two will bring you a little closer to finding out the answer...

BETRAYAL and LIES

CHAPTER 2

What the hell was keeping them? Rodney spied Radek lurking beside Chuck's com watching him limp around, and glared at the Czech, daring the scientist to tell him to relax one more time.

Relax! Yeah, _right_…If he hadn't gone back for his laptop, he wouldn't have gotten shot, leaving Captain Courageous and his trusty sidekick Conan laying down cover fire, so Teyla could drag his sorry ass back to Atlantis. Problem was, by the time Lorne and a squad of marines headed back, they were both gone. Disappeared without a trace, and it had taken way to long to find them. Elizabeth, Teyla, even Carson all said it wasn't his fault and he should stop blaming himself, so why did he still feel so guilty? Rodney glanced at his watch yet again…nearly four freaking hours. Why weren't they back by now?

Almost from the time he got out of surgery he'd started searching though the database, comparing the last seventy or so addresses from the DHD until finally they got a match with Nolange. In many ways it was your typical Pegasus market town, except minus the usual charm. A dirty, smelly place lying next to the dirtiest ocean he'd ever seen, with a rag tag assortment of dilapidated wooden huts all covered with rusty metal roofs. It's dubious claim to fame and main source of income, a slave market which took place on the first Friday of every month.

After failing to find them in the local prison or the rat infested infirmary, one of the councillors suggested they try the market. Rodney cringed, as the memory of the stark wooden platform lined with poles filled him with horror. On the one hand he hated the thought of his friend's being tied to those long linked chains amd being sold like common livestock. Yet on the other, he was relieved that at least the nefarious organisers remembered one particularly stubborn slave with dark spiky hair. There was only one snag, no one they spoke to even recalled seeing the big Satedan.

For a while they were worried, as both men had been fighting alongside each other when he and Teyla went through the 'gate. So what the hell could have happened? However, regardless of what went wrong, fortunately things turned out okay, when by pure luck Lorne picked up Ronon's signal in the same compound where Sheppard was taken.

Elizabeth, of course, didn't want to just barge in there and get them. Oh, no, she just had to do her diplomatic thing. Apparently, there was evidence of some security around the perimeter and Weir didn't want to get into a pissing match. Well, okay, she didn't actually put it quite put it that way, but he knew that's what she meant. By rights he should be there though, as they were his team after all. Except Carson, _High_ _Priest_ of voodoo, didn't want him going into a possible combat situation while nursing an injury. He'd called him a 'liability'. How **dare** he, a liability…**him! **Still, what the hell was keeping them? How long did it take for those cute bobby curls, and smouldering brown eyes to charm the pants off someone? Now, if it had of been up to him…

"Incoming wormhole. Major Lorne's IDC."

Nervously hobbling forward, the growing smile was wiped from his face as Ronon staggered through, a field bandage covering a bloody shoulder wound, supported on either side by Teyla and a grim Lorne. Rodney was sorry to see his friend hurt, but there was something else going on too, something weird. The big guy, despite being hurt and surrounded by friends was struggling to get free. Resisting all attempts to get him onto a gurney, shouting obscenities at everyone trying to help, and generally behaving like a wild man. Okay, so maybe he was sort of a wild man, but this wasn't just his usual pissed, there was something ferocious about him, an almost feral quality staring from those intense green eyes.

"Teyla?"

"Not now, Rodney." The put down, through gentle, hurt him to the core, although the feeling soon passed as the reason was evident in the sad depths of her forlorn gaze. Something really bad must have gone down on the planet, but what the hell was it, and where was Sheppard? _Oh, no…John._

ooooOoooo

Carson ripped off his soiled gloves and fired them into the bin. Five hours it had taken him to clean out the badly infected lacerations and piece Sheppard's back together, and he felt exhausted.

The good news was that the damage to John's muscles although extensive, could be effectively treated with the latest stem cell therapy. So he was confident, at least in this regard, the colonel would eventually make a full recovery. However as to his overall condition and general prognosis, he was far less optimistic. Hidden under the numerous ragged lacerations Beckett discovered several large areas of deep seated infection. From what he could surmise, the poor bugger must have been ill for weeks as much of the underlying tissue was necrotic, and required surgical intervention. Yet Beckett knew unfortunately, despite removing all the affected tissue, the infection was already running rampant in John's bloodstream making the colonel one very sick man.

Sheppard's temperature was teetering around a dangerous 104 degrees, and despite pumping him full of the most powerful antibiotics Atlantis had to offer, it refused to budge. That combined with several cracked ribs which were compromising his breathing, it was now anyone's guess as to whether his friend was going to pull through, or not.

Through the observation window Carson saw Elizabeth, Rodney and Teyla watching intently as John was settled into the ICU. Even from here he could tell their anxiety was palpable, radiating off them in waves as Sheppard's limp form was hooked up to every monitor available, his flaccid features barely visible under a mask, pumping much needed oxygen into his lungs. Carson glanced up, caught Rodney's despondent gaze and nodded. He knew they were waiting anxiously for news on John's condition, but first he needed to catch up with Dr Biro, to find out how their other patient was doing.

As he staggered into the lab, the lady in question was completely engrossed, studying something under the microscope.

"Good evening, Helena. How did Ronon's surgery go?

When the young doctor turned round, Carson could tell she was obviously distractedly by something.

"Oh, hi, Carson. It was textbook surgery, with no complications I'm pleased to say. The bullet caused a little muscle damage as you'd expect, but fortunately missed anything vital. So hopefully, with a little physical therapy, Ronon should get full use of his arm back very soon. How is Colonel Sheppard?"

"Not good, lass. I'm pretty certain I've removed all of the necrotic tissue, but unfortunately the infection had already taken hold when we found him…so, honestly I just don't know." Carson shrugged sadly and slowly moved across to where Helena was sitting, perched intently over the desk. "What is it you've found that's causing the long face?"

"It's Ronon's blood work. I've found something very disturbing. Here, have a look for yourself."

Carson waited for Helena to slide off the stool then sat on the abandoned seat to study the slide in question.

"**Bloody** **hell**. Sorry…apologies for the language, doctor…I see what you mean. Have you managed to identify the compound yet?"

Biro shook her head sadly. "Not yet, I'm afraid, but it appears to be some type of hallucinogenic compound. I've already sent samples for analysis, but until then…"

"I understand, and I'll let the team know. Good work, Doctor."

"**He's** gone…I went to check on him…thought he was still sleeping… then he hit me. When I came to Ronon was gone and the security detail was lying unconscious."

Both doctors rushed over to Marie who was leaning heavily against the door frame, sporting a cut lip and a deepening bruise on her cheek.

"Don't worry about it, love, it's not your fault and I'll make sure the marines are taken care of. Now that's a nasty bruise you've got there so why don't you go with Helena and she'll take care of you?" Carson nodded to the young doctor, who answered in kind before gently guiding the shaken woman through to the examination room.

As Carson watched them leave, he quickly activated his radio. "Major Lorne, it's Doctor Beckett. I need another security detail to the Infirmary immediately; your men have been attacked and Ronon Dex has gone missing…"

ooooOoooo

Where was this place? Somehow there was something familiar about the long, polished marble corridors, but he couldn't figure out why. He'd lived all of his life on Sateda until that traitor conspired with the Wraith, bringing their might upon them, culling his planet in order to save his own hide. Now, because of that evil coward everyone was dead. His beloved Melena blown up in front of his very eyes, and his comrades desiccated husks scattered amongst the previously bustling city streets he once called home. Except he had no home now. Everyone he once cared for was gone, killed by the Wraith. As for Sateda itself, the land of his birth, it was dead… destroyed.

Still he did have somewhere to go…Sarunda. He had a job there. Master Raman was happy with his work, and his small hut contained everything he needed. Except it wasn't going to be easy to return, as this place was well secured. Why had those bastards shot and dragged him here? He couldn't understand. The man being whipping deserved to be punished, and he was only doing his job, but they'd stopped him, and now for some reason had drugged him, too. Ripples of fire were already setting his nerves alight, and his muscles were shuddering making his movements jerky, uncoordinated, barely able to make his body respond or go where he commanded.

Hidden by shadows, he watched as another armed patrol passed by, missing him by inches, and shrank back into himself. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face, and blinking them away Ronon winced as he edged himself slowly up the wall. He couldn't stay here, but where to now? For endless moments he watched, waited and then finding the way still clear, stumbled out into the now empty corridor and ran. This place was new to him, yet somehow he thought he might know where he could hide. Not for long though, they were searching for him, so he couldn't stay anywhere for more than a few moments. But the wound in his shoulder was bleeding again, demanding attention, and the pounding in his brain was making him light headed, so he needed to rest.

The solid metal door was just like the others, so why did he stop at that precise one? Ronon didn't know, but without thinking waved his palm over the controls, surprised when it swished open…how did he know how to do that? Confused, unable to make sense of it all, he staggered inside nearly falling as he lumbered onto a nearby bed.

He closed his eyes, relishing the temporary respite, and breathed deeply. Now what? As he eased his aching body deeper into the mattress it would have been oh, so easy just to drift off, sleep, just for a little while. Except time was short, as his body was getting heavier with every step, knowing if he didn't move now, he soon wouldn't be able to.

A sharp pain lanced through his shoulder as he struggled upright and starting searching for something, anything he could use. While he ripped the bed linen and fashioned it into a makeshift dressing, he saw it. Ronon gasped as the heavy sword pulled on his shoulder, but it would do the job and moulded into his hand as if it belonged there. Then slowly making for the door, he staggered for a second, almost undone, as the room seemed to sway…he must leave now.

Whether or not it was because he was becoming used to his surroundings, Ronon didn't know, but somehow moving around this time was easier. As he crept along the corridors, closer and closer to his intended destination, skilfully avoiding the armed patrols, nausea washed through him. It made him gag but nothing was going to stop him now. If discovered he would defend himself, kill if necessary, but he wanted to avoid confrontation with them at any cost, only wielding his weapon if he really had to.

Then finally, against all the odds, he was there. Thankfully, the room was empty and there was silence, save the soft steady beeps of the strange machines, attached to the still silent man lying prone on the bed.

This wasn't the way he'd intended to take his life. On Sarunda, his role of enforcer had given him the opportunity of killing this traitor by degrees, and if not for the interference of these strangers, his goal would have been achieved. Still, he would finish the job he started…get revenge for Melena and for all those people who lost their lives. Without a second thought, he stole a final look at the man who'd torn his life apart, before raising the blade high above his head. His last thought, a memory of smiling blue eyes, before an explosion of pain engulfed him and darkness wavered before the world finally turned to black.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, so now we are closer to finding the answer as to what turned Ronon against John, hope you liked the chapter, and please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for the reviews and the alerts, as always they are really appreciated.

So now we know why Ronon did what he did…but why did he think that? More answers ahead!

BETRAYAL and LIES

CHAPTER 3

The calloused palm felt rough and dry against the warmth of her fingers, but Teyla held on tight, hoping, praying, it might give the writhing man some comfort. True, the convulsions were less than before, but even after three days Ronon's handsome features were still masked with pain, his movements jerky and shuddering as the toxin continued to wreak havoc on his body. Why was this happening to her friends? It wasn't fair that while she sat with one, willing her strength to somehow ease his pain, another lay close by, still fighting for his life with no certainty this time John would survive.

Distracted, she almost missed the tell tale swish of the door opening, and quickly composed herself, reluctant to show any trace of the tears shed only moments before.

"When is this going to stop, Carson?" Agitation made her tone sharp, which she quickly regretted when she saw how exhausted Beckett looked.

"I know how it looks, lass," Carson hesitated, before continuing "but Ronon _is_ over the worst, and I'm hoping to see a significant improvement by tomorrow."

Nervously, Teyla asked the question everyone wanted the answer to. "Do you think he will regain his memory after the drug has left his system?"

She watched as Carson paused during his exam, glanced up and nodded. "Aye, from what we've discovered about the toxin, we think he should regain most of it, but whether or not he'll remember what happened on Sarunda, it's too early to say."

"And how is John today?"

Teyla felt heartened as a faint smile passed Carson's lips. "Actually, there has been a slight improvement. Nothing to get too excited about mind, as he's certainly not out of the woods yet. Nevertheless, his temperature has started to fall…103 degrees, so I'm hoping this is the start of his recovery. Anyway, love could you do me a favour?" Teyla nodded, happy to do anything she could to help.

Beckett continued. "Great**. **Could you possibly get Rodney to take a break? He's been sitting there rooted by John's side for the last twelve hours, and I'm starting to get worried about his hypoglycaemia."

"Certainly, Doctor Beckett, I was starting to feel a little hungry myself." Teyla reluctantly rose from the chair, fully aware Carson's comment was as much for her wellbeing as it was for Rodney's.

"Will you…"

"Don't worry, lass. If either Ronon or John regains consciousness, you'll be one of the first to know. In the meantime though, I want both of you to go the cafeteria for something to eat, then straight to your quarters for a full eight hours. I'm busy enough with these two, without any more patients." Beckett placed a firm hand on her shoulder, and she reached up with hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you, Carson. You're a fine doctor and a good man." Teyla removed her hand, and gave him a warm smile as she slowly ambled towards the door. "Good night then, and I'll see you in the morning."

For the first time since she discovered her friends missing, Teyla felt her anxiety lifting just a little. She knew Carson was right, but there was still a long way to go, with so many questions to be answered along the way. Yet maybe, just maybe, she might manage to get some sleep tonight, as it seemed as though at long last things were, as John would put it 'Looking up'. Now all she had to do was convince Rodney to match her mood…

ooooOoooo

"So it was one of Koyla's men behind this?" Rodney was clearly enraged as he slammed his fist hard against the table, then grimaced, as he shook his hand while slumping back against the leather chair.

At the head of the conference table, Elizabeth took a calming breath and started to answer, taking in not just Rodney, but the rest of the company; Teyla, Lorne and a very weary Carson Beckett.

"Yes, unfortunately it would seem that regardless of what we do, we cannot escape the long shadow of the Genii. It transpired the man responsible, Karamen Malane, who is, or should I say was, in charge of acquisition on Sarunda and Raman's deputy, was once a former member of Koyla's command. Apparently, according to Raman, Karamen had barely arrived on Nolange for the last market when he saw a gang of men bringing John and Ronon, who were both unconscious, for sale. It transpires the attack upon you on PX1 496 was purely random. A common occurrence there conducted by a band of renegades notorious for abducting strangers to sell for profit. Unluckily though for John, Malane recognised him at once, and decided to use his position to exact revenge for all the Genii deaths during the aborted siege. I don't know how he knew of Ronon's connection to Sheppard, but while he allowed John to be taken to the market, intending to buy him later, he purchased Ronon separately, and kept him under wraps while he drugged him with a mind altering substance. Using its influence, he eventually convinced Ronon that John was a traitor who had somehow brought the Wraith to Sateda. Then, after a week or so, once he was confident Ronon was sufficiently conditioned, he finalised the rest of his plan by presenting him to Raman as his new enforcer…the rest, of course, you all know."

Rodney rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Well, that explains part of it, but why didn't he just kill Sheppard himself, instead of getting Ronon to do it?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Elizabeth shrugged sadly. "Maybe he didn't want to risk getting caught, or maybe…"

"Maybe, the bastard thought it would be _fun_ to turn one friend against another." Anger was clearly visible on the scientist's face as he searched hers with a question. "How did you find all this out anyway?"

"As promised I did have a further meeting with Raman in order to make arrangements for suitable compensation for his loss. Needless to say, I wasn't about to pay him anything, but I have arranged to provide regular medical care, and supplies for the men held there. It took a while, but I finally managed to convince Raman in caring for their welfare, he would have a healthier workforce and increased productivity. He eventually agreed…odious man. In any case, it was during our meeting he informed me that after our departure, he went searching for Karamen, looking for answers, and found him packing, getting ready to leave. Suspicious of his timing he began interrogating him, and in the end, Malane confessed to everything."

"So what's happened to him now?" Teyla asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"Taking John's place, I believe. Raman considered Karamen's loss of freedom as part compensation for losing Sheppard, not to mention, as he kept saying, "_the best enforcer he ever had."_

"I don't agree with slavery, but I can't help thinking it serves him bloody right after everything he's put our two men through." Beckett huffed and folded his arms, clearly showing his disgust.

"How are they today, Carson?" Elizabeth asked, hoping today's update would provide better news.

"Ronon is doing much better I'm pleased to say. His last set of bloods came back much improved, so by tomorrow I think it should be safe enough to remove the restraints."

"Are you sure that's wise, Doctor Beckett?" Lorne asked. "It was less than a week ago he assaulted Marie and tried to kill colonel Sheppard in the infirmary. If it hadn't been for Teyla lying in wait with a stunner..."

"Aye, I know, Major, but without the toxin in his system I have no reason to believe there will be any repetition of that behaviour. However, I intend keeping him isolated until he regains his memory, and I agree with you that it would be wise to keep the guard posted outside in the meantime, just in case."

"What's the status on Colonel Sheppard's condition?" Elizabeth interjected, relieved to hear some good news, but still anxious about her military CO.

Beckett paused before he replied. "I'm sorry to report, that Colonel Sheppard required further surgery early this morning. During the night his temperature began to rocket again, indicating a further underlying infection. Once we got him under the scanner we discovered further necrotic tissue had formed under one of my earlier incisions, causing an abscess. Under anaesthetic it was removed, and the abscess drained without any further complications. It is a setback I'll grant you, but I'm still optimistic if we can get him past this hurdle, his recovery should be straightforward from here on in."

"**Straightforward**! How can you possibly say that?" Rodney's voice took on a panicky, derisive tone as he glared at his friend. "This is Sheppard we're talking about, right? Nothing the man does is _straightforward_."

Elizabeth secretly shared Rodney's concern and knew he was probably right, but she desperately wanted to end the meeting on a positive note. "I understand you're concerned, Rodney, but you heard Carson. Ronon is on the mend, and we all know John is a fighter. Just remember it wasn't long ago we didn't even know where they were. At least now they're home and both of them are being well taken care of."

"If you say so…" Rodney mumbled into his coffee, although to Elizabeth's mind, didn't seem totally convinced.

"Well, people. Unless there's anything else you wish to discuss?" Elizabeth scanned the faces around the table but no one spoke. "Okay then, I'll call this meeting to order."

Elizabeth pinned a serene smile on her face as one by one everyone left the conference room. Finally, after she was left blissfully alone, she made sure the door was firmly shut then gave way to the tears she'd been fending off since her friends' disappearance. What a mess. John still desperately ill even after a week, and Ronon…despite Carson's assurances, would he ever be the same man again?

Sometimes, like now, having to deal with situations like this caused by vengeful and evil men like Kolya and Karamen, she really hated this job. Yet deep down Elizabeth knew despite everything, she would never regret coming to Atlantis. Their work here was important, and regardless of the dangers they faced on a daily basis, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Although, what of John? Ever since she'd badgered him into coming here, he'd told her it was the best decision of his life and now, like her, he considered Atlantis to be his home. So why did she feel so guilty? She knew he meant what he'd said, could tell from the sparkle in those lively hazel eyes he was a man happy with his lot. Still, why was it each time he got hurt, or put his life on the line to protect their people, she somehow felt responsible? It sounded irrational even to her own ears, and John would be horrified if he were ever to find out how she felt, but she just couldn't help it. The fact remained, if John Sheppard were to lose his life out here in space, part of her would always believe his blood would be on her hands.

ooooOoooo

Weird, blurred images of another place, like fading distant memories, flitted through his brain. Ronon cracked open his dry gritty eyes and knew straight away he was back in Atlantis, but he wasn't lying in the infirmary, which was strange, and when had he gotten shot? The last thing he could remember was providing cover fire for Teyla and McKay, but after that was when it all went a bit fuzzy…

A soft, gentle hand on his shoulder alerted him to a woman's presence. "Teyla?"

Ronon felt the hand recoil, and his eyes opened wider to reveal a flustered Marie staring at him. "What happened to you?" As he went to lift his hand to touch her bruised cheek, Ronon felt puzzled as she jumped back. Was that fear in her eyes?

Without answering his question, Marie touched her radio, refusing to meet his confused gaze. "Doctor Beckett. It's Marie. Just to let you know that Ronon is awake and appears to be more _aware_."

"What do you mean…_aware_? What happened, what's been going on**?**" Ronon raised his voice, but quickly shut up, when he saw a flash of terror flit across her face as she quickly made for the door.

Irritably scrubbing his hand across his face, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder and the pounding in his head, more that anything, he felt pissed. He'd known Marie for a while now and though she seemed a little shy, she'd never acted that way in his presence before. Something had obviously happened but he didn't know what. In fact he couldn't remember anything much, including how he got here. All he wanted was answers and just started struggling out of bed, when a relieved Beckett accompanied by a smiling Teyla entered the room.

"So Marie tells me that you're more yourself today, Ronon." He shuffled impatiently as Beckett checked his vitals, and realised he must seem like an ungrateful bastard. "Yeah, so I've been told. What the hell's going on, Carson? I can't remember a damn thing after the last mission."

Carson put down the thermometer he was holding, and turned to face him head on. "Well, you were drugged, Son, and didn't recognise any of us for quite a while. Unfortunately, you also had to endure a nasty withdrawal, as by the time we formulated a neutralising agent, it was too late to do you any good. Although the fact you recognised Marie today, and now me, shows you're well on the road to recovery and hopefully the rest of your memories should soon return."

"Do you know who I am, Ronon?" Teyla appeared by his other side, looking a little hesitant.

Ronon suppressed a smile, while pretending to study her. "Let's see. Light brown hair, meanest eyes I've ever seen. Are you that Athosian who kicks my ass in the gym?"

Teyla shook her head, laughing. "If you weren't still an invalid, Ronon Dex, you would pay for that remark. Still, I am glad to have the real Ronon back with us."

"Anyway, what was this other Ronon like?" He couldn't be sure if it was his imagination or not, but Ronon thought he saw Teyla flinch, then almost on cue, Beckett changed the subject.

"Enough questions for today, I think. You're still recovering, Ronon, and need plenty of rest. Plus you can't hide it from me, lad, I can tell from your face you have a headache. I'm afraid they're a side effect of the toxin, which will linger for a while, but should settle down in time. In addition, until I've had a chance to find out how much of your brain chemistry has been affected, and find out what you _do_ remember, I don't want to risk forcing any latent memories just in case it causes a relapse."

Ronon accepted the answer reluctantly, but still felt uneasy. Although he did have to admit his head was killing him, so maybe a few days rest wouldn't hurt. Anyway, surely whatever he'd done couldn't have been that bad…could it?

Teyla's eyes flicked towards Beckett, then she smiled at him, before she started making her way towards the door. "Sleep well, Ronon, and do what Carson tells you. I'll drop by and see you later."

As he watched his team mate leave, Ronon remembered that on the last mission Rodney had been shot. "By the way, Carson, how's McKay doing?"

"Rodney is doing just fine. He still has a bit of a limp, which I think he exaggerates when he sees me coming," Carson smirked, "but the lad will be pleased to hear you're feeling better, so I'm sure he'll be round to see you soon."

"McKay, exaggerate…doesn't sound like him, does it doc?" He shared a tired grin with Carson and yawned, suddenly exhausted. Gradually he felt himself relax further into the pillows, now barely able to keep his eyes open, then realised Beckett must have slipped something into his IV…sneaky bastard.

Yet, as the strong pull of medicated sleep tugged him under, he stirred, agitated, as there was something struggling to surface in his memory. Someone, a man, he desperately needed to know about.

"Doc…where's Sheppard?"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well at least one of the boy's is on the road to recovery, but what of John? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much for your reviews and your alerts. I am really delighted you are enjoying the story.

So, Ronon was on the mend when we left him, but what of John?

BETRAYAL & LIES

CHAPTER 4

John felt the smooth pump lying by his hand, aware that only a second's pressure would bring him the relief his body craved. Except he was tired of feeling wasted, unable to think straight through the haze of drugs clouding his thoughts and turning his brain into mush.

He knew he was being impatient. Only a few days ago he was unconscious, in the grip of a life threatening fever. Even now he still felt way too hot, his temperature down though far from normal, but he just wanted his life back, so things could return to the way they were before…

"What do you think you're doing, Colonel?" John hadn't heard Carson approach and realised Rodney was right, Beckett must have cotton wool tucked away in those soles…but the doc wasn't smiling, in fact he looked pissed.

"Don't you think I know when you're in pain, that I can't read my own machines, Son?"

John cringed, but not just from the pain racking his body. "I'm sorry, Carson. I would have taken a hit if I really thought I needed it, but I just wanted to be able to think straight for a bit. Look, the way I see things, it's a trade off. A little bit of extra pain, for a few moments of lucid thought. You know what I mean?" He watched the doc pull up a chair and sighed, knowing he was in for a lecture.

"Yes, unfortunately I do, but understand, no. Now I want you to listen carefully, Colonel, because this is the way it's going to be. Down here, it's not you that's in charge it's _me_, and what I say goes. While I understand bravery is necessary in the battlefield and even down here, if it goes unchecked it can actually cost lives. Pain isn't a badge of courage to show how tough you are, it's a warning that something has seriously gone wrong with the body and needs to be addressed. Denying pain is not only stupid, it's downright dangerous as it wears down the patient's healing capacity and compromises their strength…"

"Okay, okay I get it, Carson, I promise to use the pump properly in future…honest." John attempted a smile but winced instead when a spike of pain made him gasp.

Overwhelmed by agony, he was barely aware as Carson reached over and pressed the pump, releasing the ice cold liquid into his veins. Although, as the white hot pain eased down a notch and the red angry mist started to clear, John could tell he was in trouble when he saw _that_ look on his friend's face.

"No, Colonel, I'm afraid you don't, and that's why I'm removing the pump and resuming control of your pain relief."

"Carson…"

Beckett held his hand up, interrupting him before he could protest further. "Look, Colonel. I know what this is really about…I'm not as daft as I look you know."

John scrubbed his face carelessly with his hand, already drained by the conversation and regret for inadvertently hurting his friend. "Regardless of what you may think, Carson, I've never thought of you as stupid."

Beckett's scowl seemed to mellow a bit, even if he still looked sceptical. "Aye, well, sometimes I wonder about that. Anyway, as I was saying, I do understand your need for things to go back to normal. To get back to work, defending Atlantis, your team…yourself."

As John listened, he saw Beckett shuffle in the hard chair, recognised the concern visible in his eyes, and felt his skin crawl, half suspecting what his friend was going to say next…

"I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, John. It must have been terrible being enslaved, but worse still being continually beaten by someone you considered to be a friend."

John squirmed, then winced as the movement pulled on his back, a constant painful reminder of those fucking awful beatings he took in that hellish place. "Ronon didn't know what he was doing, Carson…it wasn't his fault."

Beckett patted his hand and to John's eyes appeared clearly upset. "No he didn't. Yet that couldn't have made it any easier on you. I saw what he did to you, John, and I know from the damage I had to repair it wasn't the first time either. It must have been difficult to take all that abuse without retaliating. Oh, and I saw the chains alright, but being restrained has never stopped you before. I know there was another reason you held back and took all that abuse…it was because you didn't want to hurt him as you realised something was very wrong."

Suddenly feeling completely exhausted and very, very depressed, John was surprised to feel the sting of tears in his eyes. "When he arrived in the camp at first I was happy to see him, relieved to find out he was still alive, but when I looked into those eyes, saw how spaced out he was, I knew he was drugged up to the gills. It soon became clear he wasn't Ronon any more. The man I knew was gone and in his place was this enforcer guy who somehow hated my guts. But if I attacked him, I would also be hurting my friend. So I couldn't do it, Carson…does that make me weak?"

Blue eyes smiled back at him. "No, Son. It makes you a brave man. Your life was under threat so you had every right to defend yourself, but you chose not to, in order to protect your friend…. that takes real courage. I'm no psychiatrist, but I know enough to see you're suffering the same kind of stress victim's of crime face after a vicious attack. You're wondering if there was something else you could have done to prevent it. If you _are_ somehow weak, and worse still for you as a soldier…if you've lost the ability to defend yourself and others."

"Have I, Carson? Do you still think I have what it takes to do my job?" John asked, suddenly frightened of what the answer would be.

"I think you have, always had, even when Sumner was calling the shots. But it's not me you need to convince…it's yourself." Becket leaned over to disconnect the pump, and when his face returned into view John could tell he'd reverted back into _doctor_ mode. "As for right now, Colonel, in order for you to be able to return to your job, you have to allow me to do mine. Which means doing what I tell you, allowing yourself to heal and none of your usual smartass tricks…understand?"

The drugs were starting to kick in big time and John felt himself struggling to stay awake, but he had to know the answer to one very important question. "How is Ronon, Carson. Has he remembered anything about what happened?"

Beckett slowly shook his head as he pushed himself off from the chair. "No, not yet. Oh, he's beginning to recall his life here before the mission, but as for the time spend time on Sarunda and afterwards…nothing. He is asking to see you, though."

"What have you told him happened to me?" John asked, curious.

"I told him the truth, that you were seriously ill with a fever. Of course, I didn't tell him how you contracted it. Anyway, I think it's high time I left you to get some rest." As he went to leave, Beckett turned and gave him a steely look. "By the way, I heard you gave Major Lorne a chewing out…why?"

"He shouldn't have shot, Ronon."

Carson grunted, and the scowl was back. "Well you owe that man an apology. If he hadn't stopped Ronon when he did, you wouldn't have survived."

John was stunned into silence for a moment as that revelation hit home, then he asked. "How did you explain the bullet wound anyway?"

Beckett's familiar face was starting to look a bit fuzzy, and his voice wavered in and out as he replied. "I told Ronon it happened on the planet. He assumed it was during your ambush on PX1 496 and I didn't enlighten him further. Unfortunately though, I did have to tell him about Marie. Give him his due, the big guy was mortified at what he'd done, and hasn't complained about the armed guard since. Now that's quite enough conversation for today, Colonel. It's time for you to get some sleep!"

As the good doctor left as silently as he came, John reflected on their conversation and realised, as usual, Beckett was right…damn him. Whatever way he looked at it, what went down between them on Sarunda, and the inevitable fallout from that, was just one big freaking mess. Sure, he would eventually heal and deal with this new set of demons in his usual manner. But as for Ronon? His head was pounding even thinking how the big guy would cope once he got all his memories back. What the hell was he going to do? Except only one thing came to mind in his cotton wool brain. Tomorrow he could at least set one thing straight…he would apologise to Evan and do what he should have done in the first place…thank him for saving his life.

ooooOoooo

_The thick braided handle of the whip felt good against his hand, and as he heard the smack of sharp, hard leather against human flesh, the resultant scream sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. Beads of sweat were streaming down his face nearly blinding him, but he could see well enough to make each lash count. __**Swish! **__**Crack! **__Another anguished cry rent the air, yet he could barely hear through the pounding of his heart roaring though his ears. Who was this man? What terrible thing had he done to deserve this? Ronon could only see the ragged, bloody lacerations ripped into his back, but the scream was somehow very familiar. It couldn't be…could it?_

"Ronon…are you alright? His eyes flew open to find himself sitting bolt upright, sweating, with Rodney staring at him with concern.

Easing himself down against the pillow, he scrubbed his hand across his face. "I'm good, McKay. Just a nightmare."

"Well, you scared the hell out of me. Wait a minute…you've had them for a while, haven't you, since you came back? Have you spoken to Carson about this?"

Ronon knew Rodney was just looking out for him, but he was sick and tired of getting treated with kid gloves, just because he'd forgotten a few things. Anyway, he knew what would happen if the doc found out. "Just leave it, Rodney…doesn't matter. Besides, I finally get out of here today, and I'll be fine once I get back to my quarters. How's Sheppard doing?"

"Still not great, but getting better. It was a close thing this time though, but as usual, Colonel Stoic is making light of it." While Rodney was speaking to him, Ronon noticed the scientist didn't look up from his laptop for a second. He reckoned it must be some important geek type stuff, and just hoped it didn't mean there was another Wraith attack on the way.

"Good morning, lads." Beckett smile took in them both, before he turned to McKay. "Rodney, if you just give us some privacy for a moment so I can carry out some final checks, then if everything's okay, Ronon's good to go."

"_Fine_, I know when I'm not wanted...Ronon, I'll be waiting outside." Rodney folded his arms in irritation then stomped out the room.

Keeping one eye on his watch, Ronon submitted to all the checks with barely concealed impatience, but reined it in, fully aware that Carson, as CMO, could keep his sorry ass grounded for who the hell knew how long if he wasn't happy with something, or if someone pissed him off.

Finally finished, he caught Beckett watching him intently as he carefully slipped on his shirt. "Well, I'm happy to say your shoulder is healing nicely, and your blood work has stayed normal so far. Although I still want to do weekly blood tests, until I'm completely certain you're in the clear."

"Okay…can I go _now_?"

"Yes, Lad, you can, but I need you to tell me at once if you suffer any flashbacks, headaches, nightmares or anything that would indicate the rest of your memories are coming back." Beckett gave him a quizzical look, as if he was already suspicious of something.

"Sure…"

Ronon cursed his careless reply, when Becket rounded on him, obviously not convinced. "I mean it, Ronon, and you should also be aware I've agreed with Major Lorne that a guard will accompany you at all times until I'm satisfied you are finally back to normal."

The memory of Marie's terror, and the knowledge he caused her bruises, stifled the protest forming on his lips. "**Fine**…Now is it alright if I go see Sheppard? Or is that going to be a problem as well?"

Carson glared at him, and Ronon was almost sure he could see his hackles rise. "By all means go and visit the Colonel. Just don't expect too much from him, Ronon. The man has been though a lot and is still far from well."

"Anything else…or are we done?" Ronon was feeling really pissed now, desperate for some freedom after being confined in isolation for weeks. However, as he slid off the bed he realised the exhaustion etched into his friends face was partly his fault, so reached over and put a grateful hand on his shoulder. Thanks, Carson. I'll see you tomorrow."

ooooOoooo

Ronon could feel himself start to relax the moment he strolled out into the corridor. While he accepted it had been necessary to keep him in isolation since he returned, a prison was still a prison. Fact was, at the end of the day, it didn't matter how well you were cared for or how friendly the warden, your liberty was still taken away. Aware of the marine following closely behind, Ronon knew he still wasn't exactly free, but if Marie's face was an indication of his previous behaviour, he couldn't really blame Lorne for taking precautions. That was what worried him most about his whole mess. If he could beat up Marie like that, what the hell else had he done?

Although Marie had told him to forget it, he still felt bad about what happened. So maybe if he asked Teyla she could suggest a gift or _something_ he could do to make it up to her. As for the rest of what happened while he was out of it, Ronon wasn't sure he wanted to remember, especially if the weird looks some people were giving him were anything to go by.

"Are you sure you don't want to head down for something to eat first? You could visit Sheppard later… anyway, he sleeps a lot."

At the sound of McKay's babbling, he turned around to find Rodney's face flushed, almost as if he was anxious about something.

"Why, don't you want me to see, Sheppard, Rodney? Go on…spit it out." Ronon stopped dead in the corridor to confront his teammate, only to feel surprised and a little hurt when McKay jumped back as if afraid.

"No reason. I just thought you might like something to eat first, I know how bad infirmary food is."

McKay wasn't a good liar, but he decided not to push it and without saying another word he continued making his way, with a now silent Rodney, towards the infirmary. He was worried about John and wanted to see him, as by all accounts the guy had had a really rough time of it and was lucky to be alive. Ronon remembered his younger brother, Racende, died of a fever when he was only six years old. His mother was never the same afterwards, and despite everything they did, she died of a broken heart less than a year later. Still, deep down, he knew it would take a lot more than a fever to take Sheppard down, but he wanted to make sure his buddy was okay, and anyway, it would be good to see him again.

As they entered the infirmary, he could see the screens around John's bed and heard Julie, one of the nurses, speaking to him.

"Not much long now, Colonel. I've only one more swab to take, and then I can change these dressings."

Ronon was confused. Sheppard was stuck in here with a fever, wasn't he? No one said anything to him about John getting injured, so what the hell had happened to him?

"What do you say we come back later, big guy? I think Sheppard is getting some tests done."

A flustered Rodney had rushed ahead to try and block his path, but he roughly brushed him aside and stormed forward, until he was met by the scene in his nightmares. The angry red scars torn into John's back were exactly the same as in his visions…and then he knew. The nightmares haunting him night after night, weren't just bad dreams, they were memories. And the defenceless man strung up against the pole being punished was no stranger, it was Sheppard. As for him, there was only one role left in the scene. He was the bastard holding the whip that had nearly thrashed his best friend to death.

ooooOoooo

TBC

So, now Ronon has finally remembered what he's done, how will be deal with that? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as always, please let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

I want to say a big thank you for all the reviews and the story alerts. They really do mean a lot to me as a writer, and give me encouragement to write further stories.

Also, I want to say thank you to Sherry57 for the whump suggestion in this chapter and of course, a huge thanks to my fabulous beta, shepsgirl72 – you really are a star! – Of course, all mistakes are mine.

Now on with the story. Ronon has finally found out what he's done, so what now for the two men. Will their friendship survive?

BETRAYAL & LIES

CHAPTER 5

"**Damn**, Teyla…Why didn't you tell me he'd gone?" John stared accusingly at the Athosian as he sat dejected, slumped on Ronon's old bunk, and dragged a weary hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, John," Teyla stammered.

"Don't blame the lassie...I told her not to."

John dragged his eyes off Teyla to see Beckett leaning against the door. "And who the hell gave you the right to do that, huh? As far as I was aware military personnel matters are my responsibility, Carson!"

"So they are, Colonel, when you're fit for duty…which you're not. I only released you to your quarters this morning, where you should be resting, by the way. Oh, and just in case you've forgotten, _**Colonel,**_ as CMO of this base your health is my responsible, and the reason I didn't want you finding out too soon was because I knew you'd go running off to the mainland, half-cocked, the minute you were on your feet."

There was silence for a moment, as the realisation that Ronon had left suddenly hit him. Within moments, all of the hours he'd spent searching since his release suddenly caught up with him, and John felt completely exhausted, achy, and demoralised. He soon realised he must look as bad as he felt, when Beckett's expression turned from one of anger to concern.

"Look, John, I didn't mean to deceive you, at least not in the way it seems, but you're not the only one who's been ill. After Ronon saw you on the ward that day, he's been trying to deal with the knowledge of what he'd done. The big guy needs time to work things through, and you need to give it to him…if you want to stand any chance of him ever returning here."

John slumped a little lower on the bunk, realising Carson was probably right. Still he was puzzled. "Why the mainland? Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm not pleased he's at least somewhere close by, but from what you've just said, and knowing Ronon, I'd have guessed he would have gone through the 'gate and disappeared to who the hell knows where by now."

"Well, it took a bit of planning on our part, didn't it, Lass." A slow smile grew on Carson's face as he beamed at Teyla. "When he told us he was leaving, I simply said he couldn't go until I was sure he was completely free of the toxin. That's when Teyla helpfully suggested he stayed with her people until I gave him the all clear."

John slowly shook his head and regarded his two friends with admiration. "And he actually bought that? You told me weeks ago he was clean, anyway, at least I don't feel so bad now…you guys are good."

Beckett extended a hand to help John off the bunk. "What say we get you tucked up in your quarters and Teyla will bring you something on a tray? As a matter of fact, Colonel, Ronon's next check-up is scheduled for a few days time. So…if you rest up and do as I tell you, and, of course, provided I see an improvement by then, I may consider revising your status to light duty, in order you can take me over there. Deal?"

He reached for the proffered hand and smiled. "Deal, and remind me _never_ to play you at poker, Carson."

ooooOoooo

When the doc was right, he was right. John had to confess a couple of days lying around his room, catching up on emails, and sleeping in his own bunk recharged his batteries, and left him feeling if not a hundred percent, then at least pretty damn close. Donning his BDU's, despite his shirt catching against the healing scars, felt good. It made him feel as if he was back in control again, not just of Atlantis, but also of himself.

The best part though of being back on duty as far as John was concerned was that he could return to the one thing he'd missed more than any other during the last few months…flying. To him, there was nothing that even came close to the exhilaration he felt each time he got behind those controls. Guiding the jumper into the clouds, soaring higher and higher over the towering spires, before finally diving deep into the blue skies over Atlantis, was almost addictive, as the sweet hum of power vibrated through his fingers.

Since that day in the ward when, at the sound of a familiar grunt, he'd turned to see the horrified expression etched into his friend's face, all John had wanted to do was go after him. At the time, of course, he wasn't going anywhere, unable to sit up without assistance let alone walk. Yet later, when he was a little more mobile, he'd been told Ronon didn't want to see him. _"Be patient"_ they all said. "_Leave_ _him_ _be_ _for_ _now,_ _he will soon come round."_ But of course, he never did.

However, now he was within minutes of seeing his friend for the first time in weeks, John was actually nervous and suddenly realised he didn't know what he was going to say. What the hell did you say to the man who nearly killed you? Not just anyone at that, Ronon was a friend, a man whom he normally trusted with his life.

There was no way he could tell him what he did was okay…because it wasn't. Nor could he say just to forget about it, because after what they'd both endured, John knew each of them would carry around their own particular scars for a long time to come. So all he could come up with, if Ronon gave him the chance, was to tell him it wasn't his fault. The fact was, if the situation had been reversed, it could just as easily have been Ronon on the receiving end of that whip, instead of him.

As the lush green landscape of the mainland came into view, John realised there was no more time for reflection or practice, because if he couldn't make his words count now, he knew Ronon would probably leave Atlantis for good, never to return.

ooooOoooo

"Just put those boxes down over there please, Colonel."

John wiped the sweat from his brow and wondered, not for the first time that day, how many supplies Carson needed to do one set of blood tests. "What are all these supplies for, Carson? I know Ronon's a big guy, but as far as I'm aware the human body only contains a max of ten pints."

"Very droll." Carson gave him a sarcastic glare. "But if you must know, I'm also here to do a surgery at the same time. In spite of what you may think, Colonel Sheppard, and of course all the work you give me, I do have other patients you know."

"**Ouch…**we are sharp today aren't we, _Doctor_ Beckett. Anyway, just tell me where you want these and I'll help you set up."

As John continued carrying supplies back and forth from the jumper into the tent Halling had designated a makeshift surgery, he spotted Teyla talking to the tall Athosian man outside. When he saw them part company he called her over.

"Hi, Teyla. Where's Ronon? I thought he would have been here by now."

Teyla seemed distracted as she pushed her hair carelessly behind her ear. a sign, which as John knew well, showed she was anxious about something. "Halling has just told me Ronon left to go hunting for colsants a couple of days ago. He assured him he would return in time for Doctor Beckett's, visit but so far there's no sign of him."

Immediately, he dumped the box he was holding, and automatically checked his gun. "Has Halling sent out a search party yet?"

"No. He was leaving it until this morning as it's not uncommon for Ronon to disappear for days at a time. Except it is out of character for him to deliberately miss an appointment."

John could tell Teyla felt guilty for the apparent lack of concern from her people, but he also knew Halling had made the right call. When Ronon was on the hunt, time stood still and everything got forgotten. Still, it wasn't like him to stand up Carson.

He reached over and put a reassuring hand on Teyla's shoulder. "It's okay, Teyla. Halling was right. We both know what the big guy's like when he's hunting, but here's what we'll do. I'll go on ahead and see if I can find him. In the meantime, ask Halling to get a few men together and if we're not back in a couple of hours then send in the cavalry."

"What is a cavalry, John?" John inwardly groaned as he saw the puzzled expression on his teammate's face.

Carson rolled his eyes at him, then turned to Teyla and explained. "What he means, Lass, is if they don't come back by that time, they may need assistance."

John smirked at the Scot, but Carson wasn't finished yet. "Oh, and by the way, Colonel, I don't want you getting into any more trouble. If you come back with so much as a scratch, I have a bunch of very thick, large bore needles waiting for you back in Atlantis."

ooooOoooo

Colsant's were ugly looking brutes. As round as they were long, with a squat, fleshy snout and two large pointed horns on either side. Add to the mix a nasty disposition, and in Ronon's view, he had an opponent which although not his equal, was at least aggressive enough to match his mood.

Up until he'd seen the horrendous wounds he'd inflicted on Sheppard, he wouldn't have believed himself capable of doing such a thing, especially to a friend. He was used to killing, even enjoyed it sometimes when it was a Wraith or a badass who deserved it. Even so, he always made it quick. A shot with his blaster, or by using a knife, not the slow sadistic assault he subjected Sheppard to.

What he couldn't get was why Sheppard had just stood there and taken it. Sure, some of the details of what went down on Sarunda were still a bit fuzzy, but surely John could have put up some resistance? The image of his friend's lacerated back still haunted him. He still couldn't get a handle on the fact he'd actually believed John Sheppard, the guy who saved his life and sanity by bringing him to Atlantis and giving him a home, was capable of betraying anyone, let alone being the person responsible for sending the Wraith to Sateda.

Everything Karamen had fed him was lies, and like a fool he'd believed them all. Sateda was culled by Wraith, that much was true. Although there was no traitor, no one man he could hold responsible for destroying his home and everything he loved…if only he could. It was bad luck pure and simple. The Wraith had already culled most of the neighbouring worlds, and for weeks everyone knew their turn was coming.

Okay, so what if he was drugged? Surely part of him must have know what he was doing? Carson had told him he wasn't responsible for his actions, that the drugs used were so powerful he would have whipped his own mother and not given it a second thought. Except he was still struggling to accept he had lost control of his actions, his memory, and worst still allowed himself to be used like that, especially to carry out another man's vendetta against his friend.

As for Sheppard, what the hell could he say to him…sorry? How weak and pathetic that word was; _Oh, hi John. I'm really __**sorry**__ for taking the hide off your back and nearly killing you._ Yeah, right.

Of course, everyone told him Sheppard wanted to see him, but he didn't really believe them. Why would he, after what he'd done? Unless, of course, he wanted to tell him to get the hell out of Atlantis, because whatever way you looked at it, how could John ever trust him again?

A rustle of newly fallen leaves shook him out his reverie and he spotted a young colsant, no bigger than a baby, in his sights. Ronon felt pissed and hungry, but the youngster didn't deserve to pay for his black mood. Unless of course it started to attack, then he would have no choice, because even those small horns could do a lot of damage.

"Ronon…you in there?" Ronon was so shocked to hear John's voice that he missed the young beast as it scurried away.

"_**Sheppard**_…what the hell are you doing here?" As he crept from behind the bushes, Ronon was happy to see his friend back to his old self, but then suddenly felt awkward.

"Looking for you of course. Beckett's waiting for you back at camp." John turned to face him, mild irritation written on his face.

"Crap, I forgot. Thought it was tomorrow." He stole a glance at John, who was now standing patiently while he packed his supplies, and was surprised to find Sheppard appeared as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Well, we should really start heading back. I've been searching for you for over an hour, and Halling will be coming with a search party if we're not back within two." As he spoke, John picked up one of the bags and started to move away.

"A search party? What the hell for?" Ronon got up and had just started walking in step beside him, when he abruptly stopped, indignant.

"Because we were worried about you. _**Ronon**_…watch out!" Sheppard yelled as a huge colsant appeared out of nowhere and charged straight at them.

Surprised, Ronen immediately raised his gun to fire, but knew he wasn't going to be quick enough. Just as he waited for the pain to hit as the large horns pierced his side he was pushed to the ground…Sheppard. He lay on the ground, winded but safe, and this time as the beast turned for another assault he was ready for it and fired, watching as it fell, as if in slow motion, onto the ground.

"That was close. Thanks buddy." Ronon turned around looking for Sheppard, but couldn't see John anywhere. "Sheppard, John…Where are you?" He hurriedly scrambled to his feet and frantically searched everywhere, but there was no trace that his friend had ever been there. Now he was getting worried. "This isn't funny, Sheppard, where the hell are you hiding?

"Down here." Ronon heard a muffled voice, it was John, but he where the hell could he be? There was nothing around here but some raval bushes, a few trees and a cliff…**Fuck**.

His heart was hammering as he scrambled over to the edge and peered over, to see John lying, sprawled on his back precariously perched on a small ledge, some twenty feet down.

"Are you ok?" Damn, even to his ears that sounded dumb.

"Sure…just peachy," Sheppard replied in a raspy voice

"Don't be a smartass, Sheppard. Where are you hurt?"

"The hog, colsant, whatever you call it tore my leg a little. Reckon my left arm's broken too, and my head hurts… Carson's so going to kill me."

Ronon, smirked, thinking of Carson's reaction. "Yeah, I expect he will, but we have to get you off there first. Take it easy, Sheppard. I'm coming down."

"Too dangerous, besides the ledge isn't strong enough." Sheppard's voice sounded weak. _Crap_. Now what the hell was he going to do?

"Right… Just sit tight then and don't move. I'll go back and get help." Ronon jumped to his feet, ready to run back to the encampment, but then Sheppard replied in a slurred voice.

"Okay, I'm kinda tired anyway. I'll just have a nap while you're gone…"

"**No…**no sleeping. You've got to stay awake." Ronon immediately realised he couldn't leave him alone, as if Sheppard had a concussion and fell asleep, he might never wake up again. "C'mon, Sheppard, snap out of it and talk to me."

"It wasn't your fault, Ronon."

Ronon grunted and smashed his fist against the ground. Damn the man. That was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but it looked as though the sneaky bastard wasn't giving him a choice, as he was a captive audience. "**Fine**, if you really want to talk about it then we will. Look, Sheppard it doesn't matter what you're going to say, I still should have known it was you…you nearly died because of me."

"But I didn't. I'm still alive, so are you. We survived..." John replied, his muffled voice barely audible.

"Anyway, what the hell was wrong with you? You should have defended yourself, man. Why didn't you fight back?" Bitter tears stung his eyes at the memory of all the abuse he'd put his friend through.

"Because you were sick, buddy. I could tell from the start you were drugged and I didn't know what else that crap was doing to your body, so I didn't want to risk hurting you."

Ronen jumped up agitated, then stormed away. What the fuck was up with this guy? First he lets him beat him, several times, and doesn't fight back. Then he only goes and falls down a freaking cliff while saving his life…again. Sheppard was a piece of work alright, but he couldn't leave him now, not like this. So he stopped in his tracks, raked a hand over his dreads, and gradually made his way back to the edge where he flopped back down.

"So what now, Sheppard? Do you want me to leave Atlantis?" Ronen shouted over the ledge, and waited for a response, but there was no answer. He craned his neck over as far as he could, but John was too far away to tell if his eyes were open or shut. "Sheppard**. **Don't you dare fall asleep while I'm talking to you. We're working things out here…remember?" _No reply. _"**John, wake up!"**

"Wha…Sorry, just zoned out there for a minute. What were you saying?" After a long moment, John's weak voice finally responded.

"I said, do you want me to leave?" Ronon was surprised at how broken his voice sounded, but not as shocked as he was at Sheppard's reply.

"No... I don't. Look, I know it's not going to be easy after everything that's happened, but I want you to stay. You're a valuable part of my team, Ronon, and if you leave now, like this, I can't help but think Karamen will have won."

"How do you know you can still trust me?" He asked, puzzled, as he didn't even trust himself right now.

John coughed out a weary laugh. "Because the enforcer on Sarunda wasn't the real you, big guy. He was a mean SOB crazed out his mind on drugs and lies. The Ronon I know has always had my back," Ronon winced. "Sorry, bad choice of words. What I meant to say is you've always looked out for me, all of us. I trust you with my life, buddy…and keeping me awake after I've fallen off a cliff."

Ronon shook his head, suppressing a smile. "I'll think about it, Sheppard. No promises. Anyway, hang in there. I can see Beckett didn't trust you to say out of trouble after all. Look, help's coming."

The small dot in the sky became gradually bigger and louder until the jumper finally came into view. Ronon waited and watched anxiously, admiring the pilot's skill as the craft hovered by the ledge as the hatch was slowly lowered carefully beside John's limp form. He stood by as a nervous Beckett appeared and, helped by Lorne, gently secured Sheppard to a backboard, so he could be safely lifted aboard.

Only once he was satisfied John was going to be okay did he wave to Beckett, waiting until the jumper was finally out of sight before ambling away. Ronon sighed at the sight of the dead colsant, but quickly got to work securing the beast before starting the long road back to the encampment. Man it was heavy, but at least one person would be pleased… Jinto. Instead of Teyla's infamous tuttle root soup, there would be a change on the menu tonight, colsant stew.

ooooOoooo

Carson snapped shut his laptop, checked his watch and dragged himself off the comfy leather chair. The padded couch sitting in the corner looked inviting, but any thoughts of forty winks would have to wait until he'd checked on Sheppard, who should be coming round from surgery some time soon.

Today was supposed to have been an easy one, playing country doctor to the Athosians, instead of which he'd taken part in a daring rescue, and he _hated_ heights. Then, he'd spent the rest of the afternoon in surgery with a certain Lt Colonel repairing a nasty lacerated leg and broken arm…the man really was a bloody menace.

Only John could fall off a cliff only hours after going back on duty, light duty at that. Still it really wasn't his fault, he supposed. Never was. It was just that the Colonel always had a talent for managing to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, poor sod. After which it was, of course, his job to patch him up and get him back to work again, until the next time…

Even in the dim night lights of the infirmary, Carson could tell his patient hadn't stirred. His heavily bound leg lay undisturbed on the padded platform, and his casted arm was still positioned close to his chest, kept secure within a sling. Even the cannula hadn't been tampered with, a sure sign John was still fast asleep as that was always the first thing to go.

"Hi, Doc. Is Sheppard going to be okay?"

Carson turned round sharply to meet the owner of the familiar voice. "He should be, Ronon. I had to do a wee spot of surgery where that beast gored him, and I set his arm, but considering the fall he took the Colonel's lucky to be alive."

Ronon grunted. "It would take more than that to kill, Sheppard, Doc…I should know." There was an awkward pause as the big man's eyes clouded over, but the moment quickly passed and Carson realised he was speaking again. "Anyway, I'm sorry I forgot our appointment today."

Damn. He had completely forgotten all about the ruse to keep Ronon near the base. "Don't worry it about it, Lad, but would you mind if it waited until tomorrow? I'm tired," he gave John a sidelong glance, "and it's been a very long day."

"Sure…" Ronon gave him a suspicious look, then spoke. "There wasn't any need for the blood tests anyway, was there?"

"Ronon…" Carson felt his colour rise as he started to explain, suddenly guilty for his deception.

"It's fine, Carson. I'm cool." Ronon interrupted. "Sure, I was pissed to start with, but I reckoned you meant well by trying to stop me from doing anything dumb…like running away."

Carson rubbed his head, feeling the onset of a headache starting, but relieved Ronon wasn't angry, "I did mean it for the best, Son as I didn't want you to leave like that, but I am sorry for lying to you. Anyway, when did you guess?"

Ronon rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "A couple of weeks ago, give or take. I suddenly realised you let me go to the mainland without an armed escort. It wasn't a big leap after that, to figure out it was just a lame excuse to get me to hang around."

"So why didn't you say anything to me?" Carson looked at him, surprised.

"Because you were right. Because when I had the chance to cool off I realised I needed somewhere quiet to think things through…decide what to do next, and you can't get anywhere quieter than the mainland." Ronon gave him a small smile.

As the two friends stood side by side facing the man in the end bed, Carson asked in a low voice. "So what are you going to do next?"

"Dunno," Ronon sighed. "Atlantis is the first place I've been since Sateda that felt like home, so I'd like to stay. Except after what I did I don't think people trust me anymore…or want me around."

"Well if it means anything, I know a lot of people who would like you to stay. Me for one, and your team, and of course not forgetting that guy in the bed over there."

"But what about the others? Lorne…he hates my guts." Ronon replied in a dejected tone, as his shoulders seemed to slump a little.

Beckett raised an eyebrow and decided honesty was the best policy. "Well, I didn't say it was going to be easy, Son, and as for Major Lorne, I think hate is too strong a word. The man saw you whipping his CO, after all, so it probably will take a while to win back his trust. By the way, this one here," Carson nodded over in Sheppard's direction, "tore a strip off him for shooting you."

"Sheppard did that…why? Lorne did the right thing, I'm just lucky he didn't kill me." The big man gave his friend a quizzical look.

"That, Laddie, you'll have to ask him yourself. Anyway, you don't strike me as a man who runs away from a challenge, but at the end of the day, Ronon, it's your call."

A soft groan from the end bed made both men turn round. Carson saw Sheppard's hand twitch and his brow furrow, sure signs he was surfacing from the anaesthetic and was in pain.

Moving quickly over with Ronon by his side, he placed a reassuring hand on John's arm. "Just take it easy, Colonel. The operation went well and you're going to be just fine. What's your pain level from one to five…the truth now."

John rasped in weak voice. "Three…maybe…three and a half."

"Good, Lad. Right, while I get you some meds." Carson turned to the man by his side. "Ronon here will give you something to drink…not too much. You know the score by now."

Carson could tell Ronon was uncomfortable, but deliberately ignored it and walked quickly away before he could object.

"Here, Sheppard." Ronon took the glass and placed the straw in John's mouth. "That's enough, you heard the doc. I don't want you barfing all over my good boots."

John, sipped the water then turned to his friend. "Thanks…you okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, Sheppard…I'm good."

"Here we go, Colonel." Carson returned and immediately pushed a syringe into the IV, watching as John's features slowly started to relax. "Okay, you should be starting to feel a little easier now, so I'm going to leave you to get some rest."

John's shaky hand reached over and touched his arm. "Thanks, Carson."

"No problem, John. Now shut your eyes and get to sleep."

Even before he finished the sentence, Carson could tell the drugs had done their job and John was dead to the world. Now it was time for him to attend to his own needs, a couple of Tylenol, a hot dinner and bed, in that order. Unless, of course, he swapped the Tylenol for some single malt, which when he thought about it, was starting to become the more appealing option.

"Doc?" Ronon's voice broke into his thoughts, and he glanced up at the big man beside him.

"Sorry, Ronon. I was just thinking of heading down to the canteen. Care to join me?"

"Thanks, but I'm good. Would it be okay if I stayed here for a while…I could even do the bi-hourly checks if you like," Ronon replied.

"Checks? What are you talking about, Son?" Carson turned and gave him a puzzled look

"Sheppard's concussed…right?" Now Carson saw it was Ronon who looked confused.

"No, Ronon. His injuries apart from heavy bruising are just what you see, but he doesn't have a concussion." Carson replied

A smile slowly grew on his face as Ronon glanced at his sleeping friend. "The SOB…"

Carson turned to face the Satedan and folded his arms. "Would you care to tell me what's going on, Ronon, because I haven't got a clue what the hell you're talking about, Son."

"He," Ronon motioned over to Sheppard, "told me his head hurt. So I had to stay with him and keep him taking so he didn't fall asleep."

"Ah…I see. To be fair, Son, maybe he did at the time. The concussive force of a fall like that could have given him a temporary headache," Carson explained, but even he was starting to wonder if John had made the best of a bad situation to mend some bridges.

"Yeah, right…if you say so, Doc." Ronon was still smiling, but obviously unconvinced, as he slumped down on the chair and propped his huge feet on the side of Sheppard's bed.

As Carson went to leave, he turned around and shot Ronon a sharp look. "So, you'll still be here when I come back tomorrow then?"

Ronon nodded. "I don't reckon one night back on base will hurt. Besides someone needs to keep an eye on him."

Carson shared a smile with the Satedan as he gave Sheppard a parting glance. "You're right enough there, Son. Anyway goodnight and I'll see you tomorrow."

As he left the two men behind, Carson suddenly didn't feel so tired anymore. In fact, a hot meal and a few drinks with some good friends might be just what the doctor ordered. In any case, it wasn't every day you had something to celebrate…

THE END.

Well that's the end of the story and I hope you enjoyed it. I just want to say thanks again to all of you followed the story, and of course for the reviews and the alerts…they are the life blood of the writer!

And please review this chapter also, as I really do like to know what you, the reader thinks.


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